


The Babysitter's Here

by penlex



Series: Traveling [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Coming Out, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Getting Back Together, Kid Fic, Kissing, M/M, Romance, Season/Series 03, Slow Build, Unconventional Relationship, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-20 12:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2428103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penlex/pseuds/penlex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian miraculously makes it through basic training, gets medicated on army dime, and goes on an uneventful tour. When he comes back Mickey is waiting for him, with a little surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. he's tall as my dad

**Author's Note:**

> rated for language and vague sexual references

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> contains a mentally ill person lightly referring to themself by an ableist slur, end notes for specifics if you need them

Ian doesn’t know how he manages it, but somehow the army doesn’t figure out he’s a fraudulent little shit until after he turns eighteen. They hem and haw over it for days because he passed basic with flying colors and, the higher-ups reason, no one has made a fuss over him being there. Of course there are the sticklers and the C.O.’s with pride issues who don’t like being shown up and the homophobes and all sorts of other shitheads, but god must be real or something, because the brass come to the compromise of not dishonorably discharging and/or court marshaling Ian as long as he attends mandatory psych counseling before they let him go on his first tour.

The army shrink he goes to gives them the all clear - once Ian is on a nice cocktail of mood stabilizers for a month. Ian wishes he could say he was surprised, but it makes a lot of things make a whole lot more sense (namely how out of control he felt just before he left home, how he managed to convince himself Mickey could fix that, why he thought it was a good idea to run away and toss all his dreams when he couldn’t).

Ian’s C.O.s are still nervous even after their head guy says Ian is stable, so they send him to a non-combat zone even though he was one of the best cadets, and is now one of the best rookie Privates. Ian isn’t too broken up about it, if he’s honest. He’s starting to think maybe he doesn’t belong here after all, but it’s too late now. All of his decisions for the next four years have already been made.

On meds, Ian can think back over his actions and feel the full crushing weight of his own stupidity and selfishness. Instead of letting himself get depressed over it (the shrink had told him that the meds could only go so far and he’d have to keep as on top of his own mental health game as much as he could, which sounds like bullshit to Ian but since he doesn’t want to end up like Monica he’s going with it), Ian calls Lip.

He apologizes for stealing Lip’s identity, but Lip is less mad about that than about Ian being gone in the first place, which Ian had been expecting. They fight a little, but eventually they both balls up and tell the other that they miss him, and move on to smoother topics.

"Where are you?" Lip asks eventually.

"Kuwait. It’s not too bad. Hot. But the danger pay’s nice, especially considering there’s not much danger."

"Don’t jinx it," says Lip, and he laughs but he means it.

Ian calls Fiona too, and a sometimes Lip’s new girlfriend from college ( _college!_ ), Amanda, brings her laptop over to the Gallagher house so they can all Skype as a family. There are always some of Ian’s fellow soldiers on his end because he has to borrow a computer and Wi-Fi from someone else who’s got them. The guy Ian is sleeping with is there a few times. Ian only knows his last name.

He writes Mandy letters, and sends her stuff when he gets a chance. He sends her some weird candy and an expensive, fancy perfume on her birthday one year. She tells Debbie to thank him for her, because she’s still not talking to Lip and she can’t afford postage.

Ian doesn’t contact Mickey for several reasons. Firstly, Ian feels pretty ashamed of himself for the way he ended things and, hypocritically, he’s too scared to face Mickey for that. But also, he’s still pissed to hell about how Mickey handled everything too, and he fluctuates back and forth between wanting to beat Mickey’s face in over it and just wanting to never speak to him again (although sometimes hate sex is an imaginary option too). And he’s almost certain that Mickey won’t want to talk to him at this point anyway, for leaving when Mickey probably needed him. To top all that off, Ian isn’t sure he wouldn’t go AWOL and try to make it back to Chicago from here just to kiss him if he heard his voice. He is crazy now, after all.

So it’s been almost four and a half years (four years, four months, and two weeks, but who’s counting) since Mickey’s been in Ian’s life other than in Ian’s constantly relived memories when Ian steps off the train he took from base back to southside. All five Gallagher siblings are there of course, and Mandy too, but Ian sees Mickey first. He’s standing separate from everyone else, far enough back that the Gallaghers might not even have noticed him. He meets Ian’s eyes, but then thumbs his bottom lip and looks away. The gesture is so familiar, the urge to brush his hand away and kiss him is automatic. But the urge to punch him in the throat isn’t exactly far behind either.

Debbie and Carl get Ian with a running hug, and Fiona doesn't waste much time following. Liam is holding her hand and treats Ian with a little shyness, for which Ian wants to punch  _himself_. Lip hugs him too, pats him on the back, ruffles his hair. Mandy punches him in the shoulder,  _hard_ , but at this point it probably hurts her just as much as it hurts him. Ian pulls her close by the back of her neck and gives her a sloppy kiss on the forehead.

It’s only after these initial greetings (during which Mickey hasn’t moved), that Ian notices that Mickey has a kid with him - a little boy who looks just like him, eyebrows and everything, who is holding his hand and staring around at the platform around him with an avid curiosity that Ian has never seen Mickey exhibit but is sure was once there.

Lip meets Ian’s eyes over Debbie’s head, and Ian knows Lip knew Mickey was there from the second he showed when he raises an eyebrow that is all at once inquisitive, unimpressed, and amused. Ian shrugs back, but then thinks  _fuck it_  and heads over. Lip and Mandy keep the other Gallaghers from following, and Ian senses a lack of hostility between them with much satisfaction.

The same can’t really be said for him and Mickey. Ian definitely still wants to punch him, and Mickey looks like he’s waiting for it. Instead of succumbing to the desire to do that (or any of the other things) Ian clenches his jaw shut and counts to five, willing his heart to slow and his head to cool. He gives up on that quick though, and decides the safer bet is to ignore Mickey altogether. He picks the lesser of two evils between walking away with no comment like an asshole or talking to the little boy instead.

Ian takes a knee in front of mini-Mickey, who he sees now has hazel eyes instead of clear blue and a thinner nose, and says brightly, “Hi! I’m Ian.”

"Hi!" the kid responds. He sways forward a little bit in his excitement, but doesn’t let go of Mickey’s hand. "I am Yevgeny Mikhail Milkovich." He enunciates very carefully, as if this is something he’s recently learned how to say, and it’s one of the most adorable things Ian has ever seen.

"You don’t have to tell people your full name every time, Yev," Mickey tells his son. Yevgeny glances up at him, but is basically uninterested in his father in the face of someone new and quickly focuses his attention back on Ian. His enthusiasm suddenly redoubles, his eyes widening and his mouth forming a perfect ‘o’ before he speaks again.

"Do you have a nickname?" he demands, and Ian can’t help but give Mickey his own glance at that.

"A few," he answers quietly. He doesn’t want to think about it. He clears his throat awkwardly before asking Yevgeny, "How old are you?"

"You know how fuckin’ old he is," Mickey snaps. Ian glares at him as he stands.

"I don’t know," he growls back, and he knows he’s being a passive aggressive (and jealous) shithead but he can’t help it. "He could be two. Maybe there’s another one at home. I don’t know." Mickey opens his mouth to respond, but Yevgeny interrupts their stupid spat by shouting at Ian, "I’m this many!" holding down the pinky and thumb of one chubby toddler hand with the other one.

"Three," Mickey supplies, and Yevgeny echoes him obediently.

"You got taller again," Mickey says to Ian. Ian half wants to grin and start up some flirting and half wants to kick Mickey in the balls, but ends up picking neither. Instead he takes a few slow steps backwards, towards his waiting family.

"Goodbye, Yevgeny," he murmurs as he goes. "It was nice to meet you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ian casually refers to himself in his inner monologue as "crazy" after being diagnosed with bipolar disorder while thinking about an outlandish action he might take.


	2. we both eat spinach (just sometimes, not all the time)

Ian is at the grocery store for Fiona (milk, spaghetti, laundry detergent; milk, spaghetti, laundry detergent...) when he sees Yevgeny again. The little guy is sitting by himself at the end of an aisle, playing with a phone that Ian is reasonably sure belongs to Mandy. Ian looks up and down the aisle twice and doesn't see anyone else, much less someone he recognizes, so he goes over to Yevgeny and crouches down like he did when they first met.

"Hey, Yevgeny," he says quietly, setting his hand basket (currently containing only spaghetti) down on the floor beside himself. Yevgeny looks up sharply, startled, but then breaks out into a shy grin that Ian is uncomfortably familiar with.

"Ian!" he greets with enthusiasm, and then quickly tones it down and affects an aloof expression that is out of place on his little three year old face to add, "What's up?"

"Not much, buddy," Ian tells him in response. "But I was kinda wondering what you're doing over here all by yourself. Did your dad get lost or something?" He throws in a wink to be extra charming, and it must work because Yevgeny giggles loudly. His eyes sparkle the same way Mickey's do, even if they are a different color, and Ian has to blink hard a couple times in the face of that.

"No, silly," Yevgeny chides. "Dads don't get lost."

"Oh, right," Ian says, nodding solemnly. "I forgot." Easy to forget something like that when yours was never around. Yevgeny only shakes his head at Ian in a toddler's adorable approximation of 'exasperated' before returning his attention to Mandy's phone. He doesn't seem at all surprised or concerned that he's alone in the grocery store, but Ian's hesitant to leave him. He rubs at his bottom lip a little (a habit he knows he picked up from Mickey but pretends he didn't) and looks around again, hoping to just catch a glimpse of Mickey or Mandy so that his conscience can rest easy if he goes. He's just about to say to hell with it and live with the guilt when he hears Mandy's voice saying, "Hey, do you have a brand preference or can I just get the cheap shit - oh."

She's wearing a faded band t-shirt (a group Ian doesn't recognize, but that looks suitably punk rock) and skinny jeans with holes in the knees and one of Mickey's hoodies with her hair up in a messy bun and eye makeup that is clearly yesterday's smudges, and she's holding two differently colored boxes of tampons. Ian hasn't really had a chance to see her much since the day he got back, and the sight of her is as welcome as three scoops of ice cream in July.

"Hey, gorgeous," he greets, standing.

"Hey, sis," Yevgeny says as he stands too, clearly imitating Mickey to the best of his ability.

"I'm your aunt, Yev," Mandy corrects. To Ian she says, "Hey, yourself."

Ian points to the tampons and asks skeptically, "Does the brand really make that much of a difference?"

"Hell fucking yeah it does," Mandy replies firmly. "But it's a luxury I can't afford, so if she wants it she's buying."

"She?" Ian repeats, but answers his own question about two seconds before  _she_ comes around the corner, answering Mandy in that stupid accent.

"I like cheap shit -" She cuts herself off at the sight of Ian like Mandy did, but of course she wears a much sourer expression, her lips puckered and eyes hard like she literally just bit into a lemon, rind and all. Ian has no room to talk though, because he has zero doubts that he probably has the exact same look on his own face. Maybe even a nastier one, considering. He hopes it's nastier.

Ian's hatred fizzles out pathetically when Yevgeny drops his adorable tough guy façade and pushes past Ian, shouting, "Мама!" with a pretty impressive level of audible glee. She bends down to scoop her son up, balancing him and the basket she's carrying in the crook of her elbow with ease. Ian takes the moment to take in her makeup-free face, her hair a little bit mousy when undone, Yevgeny's eyes and nose. Mandy says, "Cheap shit it is, then," and doesn't meet Ian's eyes.

Yevgeny's mother (Ian grinds his teeth together and forces himself to think her name -  _Svetlana_ ) looks him up and down with her sour look and spits, "He say you leave," like she's cursing him.

"Well I'm back," Ian answers. He means for it to sound like a challenge, but it just comes out as simple and anticlimactic as it really is, and he feels his lips twist a little bitterly as he hears his own voice saying it. Svetlana's mouth turns up at one end, and Ian feels hot with how much he hates that  _she_ is judging  _his_ choices. He can do that enough on his own, fuck you very much, and anyway as far as he's concerned hers are worse by far. Mandy clears her throat and shifts her feet nervously, holding her tampon boxes too tightly.

"You looking for a job?" she asks Ian uncomfortably. Ian opens his mouth to answer (kind of, he was thinking of talking to Linda, but maybe not, he doesn't know), but Svetlana beats him to the punch, interjecting abruptly, "You babysit." Mandy and Ian both gape at her for long moments before Ian manages to gasp out, " _What_?"

"Is perfect American story, no?" Svetlana says, her smirk growing. "Husband fuck pretty nanny, wife drink margaritas and spend all his money. Everybody happy." Numbly, Ian thinks to himself that if it came from anyone else he would probably have a good laugh, but as it is he can barely breathe past so much incredulousness. But Yevgeny twists around in his mother's arms and gets Ian with his shy Mickey-esque grin and asks, "Ian can watch me?" and - god fucking help him - Ian can't tell the kid no.

He ends up going home with just the spaghetti, but Fiona takes one look at him and decides she doesn't want to know. She takes the rest of the money she gave him back and hands it over to Debbie instead, who sticks her tongue out at Ian but also rubs his buzzed hair on her way out. Fiona grins and shakes her head at him.

"Weird bein' back, huh?" she asks. Ian gives her a look that says plainly 'you have no idea' and she gives him a pointedly raised eyebrow that tells him 'no kidding' in response. Ian goes upstairs with his proverbial tail tucked guiltily between his legs, but he perks up a little when Fiona calls after him, "Dinner in a couple hours."

Ian heads over to the Milkovich House of Horrors on Friday for his first babysitting gig. Svetlana used Mandy's phone to trick Ian into answering so she could give him all the details - she and Mickey were working most of the night, and then she was going out with some of her whore girlfriends, Mandy was working too, and Iggy and Colin were running a job for the in-again Terry. Mandy would be home before anyone else probably, around midnight, and then Mickey sometime around one or two. Ian would be expected to arrive by five and "if Yevgeny is satisfied with service" he would be paid $65 for the night. Ian had thought of putting up a protest that thirteen year old babysitters usually made like twelve an hour or something, but then decided against it. Yevgeny didn't seem like he'd be a whole lot of work, and maybe Ian would get to hang out with Mandy a little bit, and maybe if he was lucky be a subtle but noticeable thorn in Svetlana's side. With any luck that will be enough to make up for the nineteen bucks he's missing out on. So he kept his mouth shut on the phone, and now he's on his way, fashionably late.

Ian can hear commotion through the door when he gets to it, but nothing that sounds freaky - just four people moving around hectically and speaking at once, Mandy's voice rising above the rest once to snarl, "Get the fuck out of my way, douchebag" and Mickey replying, "Excuse the fuck outta me, jeezus." Ian bites down on his grin. Once he gets himself under control, he lifts a hand and knocks.

"That better be your fuckin' babysitter," he hears Mickey bitch inside, and then the door is wrenched open and Ian is face to face with the guy he keeps telling himself he's not still in love with because that would be ridiculous. Mickey's confrontational look drops from his face instantly when he sees Ian, but he puts two and two together (more quickly than usual, according to Ian) and turns his back to demand of his wife, "What the fuck?"

"Geny likes him," Svetlana reasons, although her smirk and posture belie her rational tone of voice.

"Yev," Mickey mutters. "Geny sounds like a fuckin' girl's name."

"No," Svetlana says, still perfectly bland. "You are just stupid." Mickey rolls his eyes and his whole head away from her and gestures an exaggerated invitation to Ian. "Well, come the fuck in. Apparently everybody here is a fan, surprise fuckin' surprise." Ian can't tell whether Mickey is really upset about Ian being the babysitter, or if he's just being difficult. But that's their whole problem, of course - Ian can never tell. He enters the house either way (with $65 and a cute kid's happiness on the line, he has no other choice), but he gives Mickey a wide berth, unsure of his welcome in Mickey's actual space. Mickey clenches his teeth in response, the muscle along his jaw standing out sharply as they grind together in irritation. It's hot, but also disheartening. Thankfully, Ian has a ready-made distraction in the form of Yevgeny running into the living room from behind the kitchen counter, shouting, "Ian's here? Ian's here?" and then upon seeing Ian standing there, "Ian's here! Ian's here!" Ian laughs and ruffles Yevgeny's soft black hair when the kid runs up and wraps his tiny arms around Ian's knees.

"Yup," he affirms. "I'm here. I'm gonna hang out with you tonight, is that cool?"

"Yes," says Yevgeny, looking up at Ian earnestly. "Cool." He emphasizes the word weirdly, and Ian figures it's not one he hears very often. Ian's happy to teach it to him.

"Are you ready to go yet?" Mickey snaps at Svetlana over Ian's shoulder. She gives him a look of very little patience, but eventually nods and grabs her coat. "Fuckin' finally," says Mickey as he herds her out the door, Mandy on his heels. "Why you gotta spend so much time on your makeup anyway, when it's just gonna get messed up?"

"I like to look nice," Svetlana says coolly, and Mickey snorts, arguing, "I thought you liked the way God made you."

" _Wow_ ," says Mandy disapprovingly as she shuts the door behind them. Ian can hear Mickey indignantly squawk, "What? That's what she fuckin' said," through the door. He can imagine Mandy shaking her head at him and bites back another grin. To Yevgeny he says, "Dads don't get lost, but they sure do get themselves in a lot of trouble don't they."

Yevgeny looks up at Ian with serious eyes and says with gravity, "I seen some shit," and Ian laughs out loud. Maybe Yevgeny all by himself will be well worth the absentee nineteen bucks.

Ian and Yevgeny have off-brand boxed macaroni and cheese for dinner. As the water is boiling, Ian looks in the fridge and freezer and cabinets for any fruits or vegetables to serve as a side. Svetlana didn't give him any instructions about a balanced meal (or a bedtime, or anything at all), but better safe than sorry, and Ian himself would prefer to have something with at least one or two nutrients in it. He finds some canned peas, but pretends he didn't because gross. He glances behind him at the patiently waiting Yevgeny as he hides the can back in the cabinet he found it in and sees nothing but understanding and acceptance on his face, and there's no reason for him to hold back his smile this time.

They watch a little TV until the discretionary advisement shows come on all the channels, and then they play Mario Kart. Ian goes easy on Yev at first, but after Yev completely destroys him in the first three games he plays like he would against Lip. Most of the time he still loses. It's incredible, but in hindsight Ian can't really say he's that surprised. Yev brings Ian a thin book with lots of pictures around nine o'clock and Ian reads it to him three times at his request until he falls asleep on Ian's arm. Ian contemplates moving Yev to his bedroom, but besides the fact that he doesn't know which one it is, he doesn't want to wake Yevgeny up. He figures Svetlana (and maybe Mickey? but Ian doesn't want to think about Mickey) probably has a higher skill level at sleepy toddler maneuvering due to practice, so he stays where he is and ends up falling asleep too, even before his arm does.

Ian wakes up with a cold side because Yevgeny isn't there, but he doesn't worry because he also has woken up with four twenties _in his fucking mouth_ _that bitch_. A scrap of paper taped to the door says 'same time next week'. Ian ignores how it makes him feel that the handwriting is Mickey's.


	3. tonight was just great

Mickey's not having the greatest week of his life. It's not the worst by far, of course (to be perfectly honest, it's not actually that bad at all, but honesty's a virtue and Mickey's not known for those, so here he is). Seeing Ian again is like a huge yellow balloon full of helium got blown up inside of his belly and floated up into his throat, taking his heart along for the ride on its way. But of course, Ian kinda hates him so it's also like having cinder blocks where he's supposed to have hands, feet, and a tongue. Good times.

Yevgeny loves Ian, obviously. Who doesn't love Ian? Even Svetlana seems to like him, probably for some minorly sinister reason that Mickey's not going to try to understand. Basically, everyone's in a really good mood all over the place because Ian Gallagher is a ray of fucking sunshine whose smile feeds starving puppies and cures cancer. And this is all bullshit because the bigger everyone else's stupid yellow helium balloons get the more Mickey wants to tell Ian about his, but cinder block tongues aren't too great for talking with, so instead Mickey just keeps acting either like a complete asshole (no surprises there) or like a total doofus (probably also not much of a shock, but Mickey still has some pride left to maintain so he'll pretend).

In short, the problem is this: Yevgeny loves Ian, Ian hates Mickey, Ian thinks Mickey hates him back, and Mickey physically can't communicate with anyone ever. So even though Mickey got to see Ian again, he's not having the greatest week.

On Friday, Svetlana somehow convinced Mickey and Mandy to hang out with her and her friends after work. Mickey's still not sure how that happened. He's not too worried about it. Earlier in their marriage, spending time with Svetlana was much like swimming through gasoline and all Mickey wanted was for someone to toss a match, but the feeling died, if not quickly, at least at a steady pace. They're pretty okay now, and he gets the impression that she cares about him. That's kind of weird and uncomfortable to think about, especially considering that he might care a little back, but Mickey learned the hard way that there's nothing you can fucking do to stop your insides from taking a liking to somebody. Anyway, things are easier without Terry around. So Mickey hung out with his wife and his sister and a bunch of the whores he takes money from, and he didn't hate it.

The three walk home together that night, Mandy drunk and sleepy and occasionally needing one or the other of the two of them to steer her back facing forward and walking straight. She keeps playing with her hair, humming. Whatever, Mickey just hopes that's not about Lip again. Mickey unlocks the door (locking it in the first place having been added to the Milkovich routine once Yev was born) and the girls sweep past him without missing a beat, forcing him to either hold the door for them or hit them with it (he sighs through his teeth, but he doesn't hate it). Mandy goes right into her room and Mickey hears the springs creak when she flops down onto her bed. He chews on the inside corner of his mouth instead of smiling as he locks back up.

That facade gets harder to keep up when Mickey finally turns to face into the living room and sees Ian asleep with his son on their terrible couch, the light from the TV making him look even paler than usual and clashing with his stupid fiery hair. Yevgeny is cuddled up against Ian's side, his fluff of black hair right in Ian's armpit, and he's got a thumb hanging out in his slack mouth, drooling all over Ian's shirt. Mickey can feel his eyes get a little moist, shakes his head at himself and looks away.

'Away' happens to be right at Svetlana. She's got her blandest facial expression on, but her eyes are smug. Mickey doesn't know what that's about, and almost definitely doesn't want to. He pretends not to have noticed, and regrets it almost immediately when Svetlana scoops Yevgeny up into her arms and heads to their bedroom, imparting with an all-too innocent, "You deal with that, yes?" and a nod at Ian.

"What the fuck," Mickey says to her back. He thinks he hears her laugh quietly, but her laugh is kinda scary so Mickey clicks off the TV and focuses his attention on Ian instead.

Ian's head is resting on the back of the couch, baring the pale expanse of his throat to the Milkovich ceiling. His collar bones peak out from underneath his blue shirt, the three little buttons left undone. It's tight across his shoulders and chest, loose over his stomach and hips. He's got one arm tossed over the back of the couch, under which Yev had been sleeping, and the other lying at his side with his hand tucked underneath his thigh. His thighs... They form a perfect v, leading Mickey's eye up to Ian's groin which, encased in worn, soft-looking jeans seems like it'd be a comfortable place to sit (and/or put his face).

The hinges of the bathroom door squeak when Svetlana closes it behind her inside their room, snapping Mickey out of his prolonged session of creepily checking out his ex(?). His ex who he's supposed to be waking up and paying for his services. Babysitting services. The more Mickey thinks about doing that though, the less he wants to and the more flustered he gets. The last time he woke Ian up, Ian hit him with a sleepy, gentle-eyed, warm sugar and vanilla smile, but from what Mickey's heard from literally anyone else Ian only reacts that way to being woken up when he fell asleep with his dick in you. Regardless, Mickey knows there's about a 0% chance that Mickey won't try to kiss him if Ian ever looks at him like that again.

So, of course, Mickey ends up stuffing a handful of bills into Ian's open mouth. He feels incredibly stupid after he does it, but it's fucking done so he leaves the money where it is. On a whim, Mickey looks around him and, finding an old grocery list on the coffee table, he writes Ian a note that says 'same time next week'.

It's only late Thursday night that Mickey realizes that nobody has miraculously made any fucking plans for tomorrow. It's Svetlana's day off and Mickey and Mandy are both working a morning shift. Mickey has no idea what Iggy and Colin have going on, but the two of them have been lazing around smoking weed at the house since Tuesday morning and don't seem like they're headed anywhere any time soon. Mickey’s an idiot. Svetlana keeps watching him as he valiantly contains his nervous energy with an almost invisible smirk. He wishes she wasn’t the mother of his child so he could smack it off her (maybe he wouldn’t anyway, but that’s for him to know and everyone else to be at least a little unsure about).

His brothers are easy enough to dispatch, at least. Mickey just tells them, “Aye, need you to clear out tomorrow,” and when Iggy says, “What the fuck, why?” Mickey snaps back, “Because I fucking told you to,” and there’s no argument beyond that. Friday morning, Mickey instructs Svetlana to go scope out the tug shop’s competition.

“Is my day off,” she reminds him, but doesn’t actually put up a fight, instead giving him that barely-there smirk all the way from their room to the door.

Mandy’s the hardest to get rid of. Mickey ends up having to forcibly stuff her into a jacket and physically push her towards the door. 

“Get the fuck off me, Mickey!” she screeches, and rakes a hand of sharp painted nails down one of his arms (he doesn’t bleed so he knows she didn’t really mean it). “Why do you even need an empty house anyway, it’s not like you have a bo—”

“Would you fucking  _ please _ ?!” Mickey hastily interrupts as he finally manages to get her outside and slams the door in her triumphant face.

“Asshole!” she shouts at him through the wood, but she sounds like she still thinks she won something. She’s been trying to bring up the gay thing ever since she stopped blaming him for Ian leaving, but so far he’s been able to mostly avoid it. It’s like this open secret between the three of them now – Mandy and Svetlana know and Mickey knows they both know, but so far they haven’t ever talked about it, at least not in explicit terms. Mickey… doesn’t hate it.

It’s only when Ian knocks on the door a little later that Mickey realizes the only person he didn’t get out of the house was himself. He immediately panics, looks down at himself to see if he can let Ian in, act like he’s in a hurry, and just fucking leave, but of course all he’s wearing is an old t-shirt, boxers, and the fucking Ugg slippers he stole off some northside grandpa when he was fourteen.

Ian knocks again, and Mickey realizes – fucking Christ – the t-shirt used to be Ian’s.  _ Fuck _ . But there’s not really any putting it off, so Mickey bites the bullet, so to speak, and gets the door.

Ian looks just as unhappy to see him as he did the first time. Mickey feels his cheeks start to get hot when Ian’s eyes flick down and widen just a little when he sees, and apparently remembers, the t-shirt Mickey’s wearing. Whatever. It’s not like Mickey’s never been a thief before. If Ian wants the shirt back he’ll have to fucking ask for it, and Mickey will act like he doesn’t remember it was Ian’s, like he didn’t originally keep it for exactly that reason. He’ll probably still keep it, even if Ian says something. So there. So all he says is, “Hey.”

“Um, hey,” Ian says back. He stares at Mickey like he’s waiting for something, but as always Mickey doesn’t know what he wants or how to give it to him. All he can do is shift awkwardly, clear his throat, shrug one shoulder.

“Didn’t really need me at work,” is his lame explanation for the fact that he’s not dressed to go anywhere, clearly doesn’t need a fucking babysitter.

“Oh,” says Ian, and takes a step back. “I guess I’ll go then—”

“ _ Don’t _ —” But Mickey’s voice catches in his throat and won’t make another sound. He could toss himself off a fucking bridge. He’s had over four years and he still can’t get the rest of the sentence out. Ian’s eyes snap to his – waiting. Waiting, waiting, always waiting for Mickey to do something right. But of course, Mickey never can.

“Svetlana already told the kid you were coming,” he lies instead, and steps aside in a silent invitation for Ian to come in. He’s pleasantly surprised when Ian actually does. They stare at each other for a few seconds, Ian still waiting, Mickey’s heart beating harder and faster and making him less and less able to deliver (breaking fucking news). Finally, Mickey mutters, “Should be just about done with his nap,” and breaks the unbearable eye contact to shuffle off towards Yev’s room where Yev is undoubtedly long finished with his afternoon nap and is probably quietly working away at one of the puzzles Mandy helped Mickey make for him some months ago.

Mickey watches his son hang out with the man he wishes was… somebody, to them both. He lets himself look, for a bit, at how Ian’s jaw is sharper, his hands just a little bigger, shoulders broader and back stronger. Mickey didn’t lie when he’d told Ian at the train station that he’d gotten taller either. He’s just bigger in general, both in body and presence. No longer is Ian a toppy twink teenage ginger. He’s a man. He teaches Mickey’s son nursery rhymes and genuinely enjoys helping Yev with the easy puzzles.

Mickey turns away into the kitchen and makes them quesadillas for a late dinner. They’re just strips of bacon embedded in melted shredded cheese between two tortillas, but Mickey cuts them up into pizza triangles and finds some unopened sour cream in the back of the fridge to serve them with. The three of them sit on the couch to eat, Yev tiny in between the two adults, opening his little mouth as wide as he can to take too-big bites of his food, bacon grease all over his face. He falls asleep on Mickey as Mickey’s wiping him off with his hand.

Mickey doesn’t get up to put Yevgeny to bed, and Ian doesn’t move either. They both watch the TV that’s going in front of them. Mickey has no idea what’s on it, overly conscious of Ian at the other end of the couch, hyper aware of how close their hands are to touching even with Yev’s heavy breathing making a somewhat distracting little spot of warmth on him through his t-shirt ( _ Ian’s _ t-shirt). It’s not long before Mickey can’t resist and he turns his head to the side to look at Ian’s profile, at the way his buzzed hair has grown out, gently curly, looking almost the way it did however many summers ago just before Frank caught them in the Kash-N-Grab’s cooler, when they both still had a little bit of stubborn baby face (for all that Mickey’s was hidden under an attempt at a beard).

The point is, Mickey missed Ian when he was in juvie back then, really missed him, and he missed him when he left for the army, and he still misses him now with him sitting just across the couch, one little toddler away.

Mickey startles when Ian rolls his head around on his neck to look at Mickey. Mickey feels that his eyes are wider than strictly necessary, but he can’t manage to affect a cooler expression. He can’t decide if Ian looks like he’s waiting again, or just taking his time to look, and it’s making him nervous(er, more nervous, whatever). Ian’s voice is a little scratchy from the time he’s spent not using it, just letting Mickey stare at him, when he murmurs into the quiet, “I missed you, Mick.” They stare at each other for a few beats longer, and then Mickey takes a deep breath.

“Missed you too,” he admits. “Ian.”


	4. all that mascara

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is not quite as fun as those previous, but the next one will rot your teeth so i think that's an even trade out :P

Ian babysits Yevgeny twice more before fucking date night. In those two times it’s all awkward small talk accompanied by disproportionately soulful looks with Mickey before Mickey makes a hasty escape, and Ian has absolutely no idea how he feels about any of it. On the third Friday Svetlana gets the door when Ian knocks, a break in the usual pattern of Mickey making a big fuss about having to get it on the other side before falling into silence when he does and staring at Ian for a few overlong seconds. He’s always got the same look on his face, and Ian wishes he could read it. It’s almost a relief that he doesn’t have to try this time.

Svetlana is wearing a knee-length, form-fitting sparkly silver dress with a brief slit on one side, and she’s got some weird furry thing draped across her shoulders. Her lips slip into an easy smirk at the sight of Ian, the deep red they’re painted contrasting starkly with the pale skin of her face. If Ian wasn’t gay, and the circumstances of their acquaintance were far, far different, he’d probably be a little enamored. As it is, he’s a little afraid of her instead. After all, the nightmares Ian has with her in them are– Well. Sometimes it’s hard to tell who’s a monster and who’s not. Reality paints a different picture though, and Ian feels himself growing steadily less furious and jumpy around her as time goes on.

Ian has learned by now what Svetlana looks like when she’s going to work and what she looks like when she’s going out, and this outfit smacks of the latter. If Ian’s lucky that means that this will be an occasion where a babysitter isn’t really necessary and Mickey doesn’t have anywhere he has to be. Ian doesn’t know if those occasions happen just because Mickey wants to see him, but in light of how he finally admitted, with no concession, that he had missed Ian, Ian is willing to assume (read: to hope) that they are.

Svetlana doesn’t move aside to let Ian in, instead content to watch him pine on the doorstep. Maybe she’s not a monster, but she can still be pretty awful. Luckily, Mickey appears behind her without too much delay. Not so luckily, the t-shirt and old man slippers Ian was so eager to see are missing. Instead, Mickey’s got on a dark button down, sleeves rolled to his elbows, dark jeans, and nice enough shoes. His shirt is tucked in and his belt buckle is silver. He and Svetlana kind of match, and Mickey even puts a hand on her back to push her – gently, for a Milkovich – closer to the door. Ian is hit hard right in the gut with the reminder that they’re fucking married to each other. He feels breathless and cold, a little faint, and so, so incredibly stupid. What does it matter if Mickey missed him? Ian was gone for four fucking years – he missed everyone (maybe not Frank, but seriously, everyone else). Mickey still has that awful ring on his finger. And why shouldn’t he? Svetlana is the mother of his child. That matters, to some people.

“We will go on date,” Svetlana says. “I think piece of shit husband maybe feeling guilty for being such grumpy. He is not getting laid.” Her tone and her body language are conspiratorial, playful, like she only means to tease and embarrass Mickey, but her eyes look the same as Fiona’s used to when Ian brought home a behavioral slip from school. Ian’s not entirely sure what he’s done to earn such a look from her, but she’s rapidly becoming a Bad Guy again in his mind, so Ian’s pretty certain that he doesn’t give a shit. He just glares back. She rolls her eyes and makes it obvious that she thinks he’s just as stupid as he feels. Whatever. Fuck her.

“ _ So _ grumpy,” Mickey corrects her English with distinctly less patience than he usually has with his son – but Ian can tell his ill grace is mostly feigned.

“Fuck you,” Svetlana says, still grinning, half-smug and half-irritated at Ian. “Maybe my sentence is not finished.”

“Then it would be such  _ a _ grumpy… whatever,” Mickey persists.

“Fuck you,” Svetlana repeats, but punctuates herself with a kiss on Mickey’s cheek. Mickey leans away from her and makes a face, but he doesn’t wipe her lipstick off. He pushes her – gently, so fucking Milkovich gently – and his ring glints at Ian cruelly in the light from the streetlamp on the other side of the street. Svetlana stumbles back from the shove, lets out a sound that could almost be classified as a giggle, and grabs Ian by the wrist to yank him inside between the apparently perfectly happy couple. Ian doesn’t want her to touch him, but he’s too slow to move his arm out of her reach, and she releases him too quickly for him to get the petty satisfaction of yanking it out of her grip.

“We will be back when who knows,” she tells him. There’s no ulterior tone in her voice now. She’s just happy as she slips out the door and tugs Mickey out behind her. He goes with affected reluctance, but his mouth is doing that stupid invisible smile thing that Ian thought was only for him. Ian hates them both. A lot.

“It’s  _ who knows when _ ,” Mickey heckles his wife, and Ian is a very sad and masochistic person, so while Mickey is not looking back at him, Ian checks out his back and shoulders and admires how fucking sexy he looks in his date clothes. Clothes that Ian has never seen him in before.

“Fuck you,” Svetlana says again. Knowing that they’re heading off to have some romantic candle lit fucking dinner with each other, it can’t be denied that they’re fucking flirting. Mickey used to do it the same way with Ian. Four years is a long fucking time. Ian slams the door shut before he has to see anybody give anybody else any soft or sweet looks.

Ian doesn’t know what Mandy’s busy with tonight, but he texts her anyway.  _ They seem happy _ , he sends, even though he knows it’s shitty of him. Mandy doesn’t text back until nearly an hour later, and all she says is,  _ Yeah _ . Ian thinks about maybe trying out some of those mental exercises his shrink suggested while he morosely watches Yevgeny color. When Yev had said he wanted to, Ian had expected to go looking and find maybe the blank backside of an unpaid bill and some broken pens to provide, but instead, in the bottom drawer of what was definitely a gun cabinet the last time Ian had bothered to look, Ian finds three different packages of markers, the most gigantic box of crayons he’s ever seen, an open pack of printer paper, and two nearly completed coloring books. One of the books is even full of nothing but Disney princesses, some colored in with a child’s creative and sloppy hand and some with neat precision and movie accuracy. He realizes his expectations are completely fucking skewed, but that doesn’t mean he can just make them change.

“Here!” says Yevgeny suddenly, effectively pulling Ian out of his self-judgement spiral. He’s holding up the Disney coloring book open in front of Ian’s face, showing off the picture of Merida he’s just finished filling in. “She looks like you,” Yevgeny says. Her skin is deep blue, but her hair is still orange.

“Yeah,” Ian agrees easily. “She does, doesn’t she?” The picture next to Avatar Merida is of Tiana, colored in so perfectly it could be a capture from the film. There’s a colorful mess in the top right corner that looks like it could be a spaceship or a cat, clearly Yevgeny’s work, but in the bottom left there are little scribbles in a cluster that aren’t meant to be anything, as if someone had double checked each shade before using it in the lines.

“Did your mom color this one in?” Ian asks, gesturing at the Tiana page before Yevgeny takes the book back to the coffee table and starts turning the individual pages one by one, looking for his next piece of work. He’s already selected a vibrant red orange to be his first color.

“No,” he tells Ian without pausing in his quest. “She doesn’t like to color.” Amazingly, Yevgeny seems to interpret Ian’s confused silence correctly and stops turning pages to look up at Ian and add, “Daddy colors with me.”

“Oh,” Ian responds dully, and Yevgeny stares and him unblinkingly for several seconds before returning to his task. Finally, Yevgeny chooses a picture to color and begins, and Ian just watches him in silence, unbalanced. Eventually, Yevgeny climbs up onto the couch next to Ian, the coloring book laid out open on his tiny lap. Ian looks over and down to see Aurora in a scarlet dress that clashes horribly with her reflector green hair and magenta eyes.

“Ian,” says Yevgeny, and Ian looks into his face to see him looking as grave as a three-year-old can.

“Yeah, Yev?” he answers, and Yevgeny puts a tiny hand on Ian’s shoulder.

“Why are you sad?” he asks. Ian doesn’t know what makes him answer the kid honestly. Maybe because Yevgeny hadn’t asked  _ if _ , but  _ why _ . Regardless, Ian lets out a heavy sigh and looks back down at Aurora before confessing, “I made a bad choice, and now I don’t like what happened because of it. But it’s my fault.” He shrugs, but Yevgeny doesn’t let his hand be dislodged. Ian looks up again to see Yevgeny nodding, like he understands or sympathizes.

“I get sad sometimes too,” Yevgeny admits, and then he shrugs too. “It’s normal to be sad sometimes,” he explains, and then he removes his hand from Ian’s shoulder, turns away from him, and begins coloring in Aurora’s skin with light brown. The paper wrapping on the crayon looks soft and worn from being handled, but it’s untorn and intact, and Ian doesn’t know why, but he feels a little better.

When Mickey and Svetlana get home, Yevgeny is asleep in his bed, and Ian is sitting on the floor at the coffee table coloring in a picture of Mulan with more crayon colors at his disposal than he ever had as a child. He’s decided to get creative, filling in her skin with chestnut, her eyes with olive, and her dress with burnt sienna and topaz. He didn’t even know what color topaz actually was yesterday.

Mickey and Svetlana smell like a bar, but not the Alibi, and for long moments Ian is outside of their notice. Mickey takes Svetlana’s shawl thing from her with an unpracticed ease as she smacks him playfully in the chest. They are laughing softly, with each other and not at. Ian sets down his crayon and watches them from where he is, and for the first time in his own memory, he allows himself to feel bittersweet.

Yeah. They seem happy.


	5. the king of romance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me as i was writing this gay shit: damn this shit is gay

“You are idiot,” Svetlana says cheerfully the next time she's the one to get the door for Ian. He’s done his best in the intervening weeks, in between hanging out with Mandy when she’s free and trying to imagine something for his future, to put aside his bitterness around her and see her as she really is. So he’s sure she’s right. He just has no fucking clue why. He shrugs helplessly at her, standing in the Milkovich doorway, before she rolls her eyes and hands him a sleeping Yevgeny as she lets him inside.

“He’s fussy today,” she explains, and Ian nods, more than prepared to deal with that after years of helping Fi with Debs and Carl. It’s the middle of the day, but hellishly early for people who work late night shifts. Svetlana seems unaffected, but Ian can see into the kitchen that Mickey and Mandy are both having a tough time. Neither of them really looks alive, both of them cradling huge coffee mugs and staring listlessly into space. Ian can’t help but smile at the picture they make. He’s never seen Mickey like this before, but this was the version of Mandy he saw almost every day at school, way back when, and right now they look like they could be twins. It’s both new and familiar, a remarkably warm feeling that Ian immediately wants more of, even before it fades.

"Not the baby," Svetlana clarifies from beside him while he stares. And then, flatly, "You deserve each other." When he looks over at her she purses her lips and raises her eyebrows. Ian sighs and acknowledges the scolding for what it is. He's been cranky since date night, and despite having decided to deal with it like the adult he is he still hasn't managed to be incredibly subtle about his feelings. Svetlana only clicks her tongue and rolls her eyes at him irritably, but Ian doesn't give her any further response. He's sure she must have learned by now not to expect straightforward apologies from anyone around here.

Mickey doesn't say a single word to Ian as he's getting ready or on his way out, doesn't even look at him. It's pretty jarring after almost two months now, all together, of being friendly with each other (and sometimes, Ian had thought before date night, maybe just a touch  _ more _ than friendly). Ian looks to Mandy first for some possible insight, but she only looks just as pissed off as Mickey, probably because Mickey's hell and a half to be around when he's… well, not when he's got something up his ass, usually that makes him pretty happy, but, you know, figuratively speaking.

When Ian looks to Svetlana next it's only the same accusatory, expectant stare as before. Fine then.

Ian and Yevgeny spend the first half of Ian's time at the park running around and playing. There are some other kids there, a few who look close to Yevgeny's age, and he plays with each of them for a few minutes each, one at a time. He's so shy that when they start to gather together he gets overwhelmed and runs over to hide behind Ian's legs. It's so fucking adorable and Ian's heart aches with so much sweetness he thinks it might just give out. He hugs Yevgeny to him when he can and doesn't have eyes for anyone or anything else until the sun starts to set and it's time to bring Yev home. Ian buys them street gyros on the way and Yevgeny makes a big tzatziki mess of himself taking bites too big for his little mouth.

They watch an old episode of Spongebob when they get home, and then play a few rounds of Go Fish with regular playing cards before Yevgeny starts to droop and Ian puts him to bed.

Alone on the Milkovich couch, Ian quietly puts in the Seagal movie he finds shoved behind the Playstation (it's terrible, but he watches the whole thing) and tries every hard not to think about what the hell he's doing.

It's a mistake to fall asleep on the couch before taking the DVD out, but Ian just spent three hours chasing around his favorite toddler and friends so that's what he does. He wakes to the door closing behind Mickey, the starting menu music repeating in the background. Ian blinks blearily at Mickey, and Mickey looks back and forth between Ian and the TV screen. When Ian comes out of sleep enough to realize exactly what Mickey's seeing his face gets hot, and even in the semi-dark he knows Mickey has to be able to see his blush. Despite all the new freckles from all the sun Ian got in Kuwait, he's still got that pale redhead's complexion and there's no hiding it.

"You holding a torch, Gallagher?" Mickey asks quietly. His voice is soft and low enough that it doesn't break the ambiance. Ian knows he could let it pass, let them both keep moving on, but he can't fucking stand the idea of chickening out after all the shit he put Mickey through for hiding under much, much worse circumstances. He has to tell him. He has to say it out loud where he knows he never really gave Mickey a fair chance to.

"Yeah," he says. His voice isn't soft like Mickey's, just weak. Even still, after several bracing swallows he manages to add, "I'm still in love with you." Mickey is as still and silent as a fucking statue for a period of time that is probably only a few seconds, but to Ian feels even longer than the past four and a half years, and then he rushes forward into Ian's space, straddles him on the couch and kisses him for all both of their lives are worth.

God, Ian has missed this so much. They barely got any kisses in before- before everything. Just one baker's dozen of the sweetest shit Ian has ever tasted before it was ripped away and neither one of them could figure out the right way to fight for it back. Now Ian has it again - Mickey's tongue sweeping at his bottom lip and delving inside when Ian opens his mouth for him, Mickey's face in between Ian's hands, Mickey's hair running between his fingers, the soft noises that come out of Mickey right into Ian's mouth like he can't keep them back…

But Ian has grown a lot since the last time he had the privilege of Mickey's mouth on his. He's a semi-responsible therapist-seeing adult now, and he knows he can't have things just because he wants them, even if they eagerly fall into his lap like this. He leans out of Mickey's grasp, panting, and tries not to get distracted by the way Mickey's wet lips shine in the light of the TV.

"What about Svetlana?" he whispers. It hurts to get out, his voice going raw. But he has to ask it. She and Mickey seem so happy, and Yevgeny seems to have such a great life going - not even just relative to the rest of them either but a real honest-to-god happy childhood, so far. Ian won't - can't - be the one to ruin those things, not for the man he loves and the son he's growing to love just as much.

"What the fuck about her?" Mickey demands. He's cranky to be put off, sounding a thousand times more familiar than the soft young man that walked through the door. He sits up straighter, still on his knees over Ian's lap, but pissy now, one hand out to gesture his irritation while he glares down at Ian.  _ God _ , Ian loves him so fucking much. "She ain't gonna be home for at least another hour, pro'ly two."

"But you and her- She's your wife," Ian tries, looking over Mickey's shoulder so that he's not tempted to just forget about it and keep kissing Mickey senseless. He knows they were never exclusive with anyone else, and never cared overmuch if they let anyone actually know that, when they were teens, but it's different now. Maybe if Mickey and Svetlana have an open sort of thing, negotiated and stuff, that would be alright. But Ian would want to make sure with her, no matter how much he would seethe and hate asking her permission for shit.

"What-? Ian, I'm gay," Mickey blurts. His tone is so incredulous it almost sounds like a question, but only if the question was 'are you stupid?' and the answer was 'yes'. When Ian snaps his eyes back onto Mickey's face, Mickey looks just as shocked to have said it out loud as Ian is to have heard it from him, his blue eyes wide and blinking and his mouth set in a tiny pink little 'o'.

Ian can't help but burst out laughing, his head thunking against the back of the couch as he goes boneless with it. Slowly, Mickey starts to laugh with him, sliding down to cuddle up against Ian's side instead of kneeling imperiously over him. Almost like he can't hold back a second longer, Mickey starts peppering Ian all over with little closed mouth kisses, all along his neck and over his closest cheek, ear, brow, the corner of his still grinning lips, until Ian turns his head to catch one on the mouth. They trade sweet, chaste kisses that way for long, happy moments before Mickey speaks again.

"Our marriage ain't anymore real now than it was," he explains. "We're friends now, is all. She's funny. Sharp. Good mom." Ian just nods, still kissing Mickey wherever he can while still letting him talk.

"Okay," he says once he finally manages to make himself pause. "Okay. But we're not gonna get walked in on by Mandy either, right?" Mickey laughs again, right out loud, and Ian thrills to hear it. The openness makes it novel but that it's Mickey keeps it comfortably familiar, like any new part of Mickey Ian would recognize anyway, just because it was  _ Mickey _ .

"Nah," Mickey assures him, grinning easily. "She went with Svetlana. They're friends too, I guess. I try not to think about it too much." Ian snorts, and then wraps his arms tight around Mickey's waist, pulling him in as close as he can. Mickey throws an arm over Ian's shoulders, not arguing one bit.

"Yeah, sounds like pretty scary shit," Ian says, but it's muffled against Mickey's throat because Ian couldn't pause any longer and had to get his mouth back on Mickey's skin. He licks and kisses at Mickey's pulse point, until suddenly he has a thought- "Can I leave marks now?"

Mickey's fingers tap on Ian's back while he thinks, before he allows, "Lower, yeah."

Ian tears off Mickey's shirt without needing any further invitation, and when Mickey laughs again as he lays back it's music to Ian's ears.

When Svetlana and Mandy get home, the starting menu of the Seagal flick is still playing on the TV, and Mickey and Ian are half naked, asleep on top of each other on the floor.

"Ew," says Mandy, but Svetlana only smiles.

That doesn't stop her from waking them up by slamming the pan for eggs down on the stove harder than necessary in the morning, grinning sharply to see them scramble around with wide eyes, fumbling to zip up their pants and tug on their shirts, too slow to not show off the collection of beautiful hickeys all across Mickey's chest.

"Margaritas tonight," she says gleefully, and Ian lets out a deeply embarrassed groan, still kneeling over her husband on their living room floor.

Things are almost the same after that, except immeasurably better. On days when Ian is really needed as a babysitter, he does all the usual with Yevgeny, growing to love him more and more every time he sees him. He and Yev color in the Disney princess coloring book, and Yevgeny compliments Ian's color choices and Ian tells him he learned from the best. They play Go Fish and watch Spongebob and princess movies and Narnia and they go to the park and Yevgeny makes a friend but will only talk to her when Ian is there to nod encouragingly, and once Yev has finally worn himself out Ian puts him to bed with a story and a kiss on his fluffy head. And when Mickey gets home he tucks Ian's fee into Ian's back pocket and leaves his hand there and they make out until somebody else gets home and makes a stink about it. On days when Ian isn't really needed because Mickey is home, they both play with Yevgeny and throughout the day they give each other chaste kisses and flirt and play around with each other too, and when they've put Yev to sleep, Mickey takes Ian into his own bedroom and they take each other apart. Svetlana never wakes them up or kicks Ian out when she gets home even though she and Mickey still sleep in the same bed, although once or twice Ian has woken up to find her sleeping beside them, which is a little weird but not actually unpleasant.

Ian is blindingly fucking happy. He even sets an alarm on his phone to remind him to take his meds every day, worried he might be manic. But the panic and dread that comes from being out of control never comes, and he still has a pretty good grip on his temper, so he thinks he's fine. Just happy. Deeply, resiliently happy.

Ian and Mickey are still a secret outside of the Milkovich (and Gallagher, but it's more of an open secret there than an out one) house. There's no PDA, no flirting or openly talking about each other, but Ian can handle that much better now. Especially with Yevgeny (and Svetlana, sort of) to think about now, safety wise. Who knows what a particularly fucked homophobe might do - scare Yevgeny or call immigration or whatever else. So Ian follows the rules without complaint, and mostly without internal bother either. Sure, he doesn't like being closeted, but who does? Nobody. Mickey included. Ian is glad he can see that so much better now.

Ian is hanging out with Carl on one of his days off, getting absolutely fucking demolished at Mortal Kombat over and over again, when Mickey shows up at the door with Yevgeny in tow.

"Hi, Ian!" Yevgeny says, cheerful as ever, when Ian answers, and then blinks at where Carl is watching from the couch. "Who's that?"

"Uh," Ian stumbles, caught momentarily off guard. "That's my little brother, Carl."

"Hmm," hums Yevgeny thoughtfully, and then turns a pointed-looking glare on Mickey who looks flatly resigned and doesn't look down at him, like he's expecting it. Ian barks out a surprised laugh, and then raises his eyebrows at Mickey, tapping his watch.

"Shut the fuck up," Mickey snaps. "You know that ain't happening. Iggy's doing business at the house right now. Sveta don't think it's a big deal but I don't like it, so I was wondering if Yev and I could hang out here today."

Ian is struck dumb, all over again despite how many times he's seen it by now, by what a good father Mickey is, in spite - or maybe because - of everything he's been put through.

"Yeah," Ian finally croaks, and steps aside. He loves Mickey so much.

He loves Mickey  _ so much _ . Fuck.

So Mickey and Yev start hanging out at the Gallagher house, about as often as Ian is at theirs. He starts walking back and forth with them from one house to the other, sleeping at whichever one they end up, bringing stuff over with him and not taking it back, until he's not quite certain which house - Gallagher or Milkovich - he actually lives at. There's never any moment Ian is unwelcome at either, so he guesses for now he'll just go ahead and think of both as home.

It doesn't take long until Mickey gets just as comfortable, and the open secret turns into no secret at all, and soon enough Fi and Debs and Carl start asking Ian where Mickey and Yev are whenever Ian comes in without them. Ian hopes Svetlana and Mandy ask about him too, when the inverse happens.

Mickey kisses him at the door when they part now, with Yevgeny and the rest of the Gallagher family in plain view. They're creeping in and out of the closet together, and this time Mickey is the one leading their way.

"Hey!" Mickey calls out as Yevgeny pulls ahead of them, as they walk from the park to the Gallagher house, bundled up against the first snow. "Stay where I can see you!"

"I know the way!" Yevgeny shouts back. Ian bites back the urge to start sing-songing  _ um-um-um _ like someone barely older than the kid when he sees Mickey's eyebrows shoot up. He knows probably just as well as Yev does now what that means. Trouble. If only Yevgeny were close enough to see it.

"Did I fuckin' ask if you knew the way?" Mickey demands. "Stay where I can see you!" Yevgeny falls back, closer to them again, but not within reach. It's obvious why when he huffs out a huge breath and deliberately looks right up at the sky. Ian tries not to laugh. Really, he does.

"He learned that from you, asshole," Mickey tells him, trying to sound bitter but too fond to pull it off so it just comes out sounding kind of flirty. Facetious. Ian mocks out an offended gasp, playing along.

"Did not!" he argues, hand to his chest. Despite his words though, Ian feels… kind of warm. Bubbly. Proud, maybe. Yeah. He's proud that Yevgeny has learned something from him, even something unflattering. Proud, like Yevgeny is his or something. Or like he wants him to be.

"You know…" Ian begins, tentatively, and at his tone Mickey tilts his chin just barely enough to look over at him. "Uh. I could teach him some other stuff too. Nicer stuff. To make up for that." Mickey stays quiet for a long time, staring at him as they walk, as Yevgeny starts pulling ahead again. Ian has been keeping one eye on him. He hadn't realized.

Mickey stops looking at Ian then, points his face straight ahead. He closes his eyes and takes deep steady breaths, like he's counting backwards from ten or something. Ian starts panicking, internally. He didn't think what he'd said would make Mickey angry, for one. And two, usually when Mickey's angry with Ian it's out of hurt anyway, which is the last thing Ian wants, after everything they've been through. After everything Ian has put Mickey through. So what did he do? How can he fix it? Oh, maybe he overstepped, or-

Mickey folds his hand into Ian's, curls his fingers in between Ian's and holds. In the middle of the street, in front of God and everyone, Mickey Milkovich is holding Ian's hand. He's rubbing back and forth with his thumb through their gloves. It's warm and sweet like the sugar cookies Debbie has been baking. Intimate, like they never quite managed to really be before. Ian could die it feels so good.

"You do teach him nice stuff," Mickey says. And then, "Me too."

Ian doesn't think he's ever been happier in his whole entire life. He squeezes Mickey's hand, maybe too tight, who knows, who cares, and grins with every single one of his teeth. His face hurts from it, but he can't stop.

"Yevgeny!" he shouts as he turns to face front again too. "Stay where we can see you!"


	6. the sign for peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for Terry (fuck Terry)
> 
> i wrote this between 3 and 9 in the morning, so i guess also a warning for sleep deprived writing
> 
> also idk when Yevgeny's birthday is canonically, besides _winter_ so, uh... _winter_. whatever.

A lot of things happen in quick succession after Mickey and Ian start showing little bits of non-platonic affection out and about in the wider world. Lip gets offered a TA and research position from one of his undergrad professors, which he accepts without any fuss whatsoever - things really have changed a lot in all the time Ian's been gone. Debbie gets an acceptance letter and a scholarship offer from her first choice college for next year. It's not a full ride so they'll still have to do some figuring, but Fiona and Ian both scream and cry about it in pride. (Mickey is there when that happens but he only laughs a little at their antics. A little while later Ian catches him nudging Debs with a shoulder and telling her good job. He feels like he could explode, in a good way for once.)

Most notably, in a day-to-day sense, all the Milkoviches seem to smile more. Ian earns some new nicknames: Svetlana reprises and makes stick "Pretty Nanny" and Mandy calls him "Shitty Brother 2.0" and once Yevgeny accidentally calls him "Daddy" (Yevgeny is embarrassed about it so nobody mentions it again, but when he's in private Ian repeats it in his head over and over and over again). Mickey also brings back some of his old nicknames for Ian, and gives him some new ones too. Firecrotch, Tough Guy, Private Benjamin, Red, Lover Boy, Van Damme, Gryffindor, Romeo, Rudolph when Christmas gets closer ("It's my hair that's red, not my nose," Ian laughingly complains), and on and on. By now, Ian answers to the tone of Mickey's voice more than anything else.

Mickey holding Ian's hand as they walk somewhere becomes a favorite activity of theirs, and Mickey starts kissing Ian at the door to places when they have to part. It's just a quick chaste thing, and Mickey pretty much looks like he's freaking out every time, but he does it. He does it and he keeps doing it, and Ian is so happy and proud of him and. Just. Fuck. How did they get here? From where they were? Ian tries not to think it's too good to be true. He doesn't wanna jinx it.

"It's about time," says Kev easily when Ian kisses Mickey goodbye at the bar in the Alibi without thinking because it's opening time and only Frank is there, still passed out outside on the stoop. "He missed you, man. All four years. It was pathetic."

"Hey, are you gonna expand on the babysitting thing?" Kev asks before Ian leaves. "Vee and I aren't interested in the canoodling part, though." Ian laughs, and tells him that canoodling is extra.

Mickey's brothers react about the same - which is to say, they pretty much don't. Except once Iggy looks up from the bowl he's packing in the living room with a dramatic gasp (it isn't lit, house rules since Yevgeny was a baby are that smoking happens outside, but from the smell of him he's already had one) and says, "Mickey, you totally banged that weird guy, didn't you." Mickey just spreads his hands and scowls at him, the universal 'what the fuck, man' gesture, and that's that.

Ian does end up expanding on the babysitting thing, taking on Amy and Gemma and Dominic and relocating so that all the babysitting happens at casa de Gallagher so that he can keep an eye on Liam too when he gets home from school (he's in second grade now, but Ian refuses to be one of those annoying grown ups who cries all over you because you're growing up too fast, especially since it's Ian's own choices that have made him miss so much). Fiona tries to pay him like everyone else, but Ian won't take it, reminding her that she never paid any of them for watching Liam before and Ian would just turn around and put it right back into the squirrel fund anyway.

Mickey and Ian and Yevgeny usually walk to the Gallagher place in the mornings now, and when Kev brings Amy and Gemma over the two of them go to the Alibi together like an on-foot carpool. It's all so domestic and routine, like their lives are really just normal regular lives. And then when the work day is over Mickey picks Ian and Yev up and they go back to the Milkovich house and sometimes dinner is waiting for them or sometimes they're the ones who make it and sometimes they watch a movie as a family - Ian and Mickey and Yevgeny and Mandy and Svetlana and sometimes Iggy. Sometimes Ian and Mickey have quiet sex and sometimes they just fall asleep. Sometimes Yevgeny wakes them up in the morning and sometimes it's Mandy or Svetlana or the sun through the window, but they're always together.

Ian is the one to take Yevgeny in to get signed up for preschool.

"Thanks, Mr. Mom," Mickey says that morning, with a kiss on Ian's cheek that he has to stand on his toes to give. "Ay, will you pick up some bread on your way home?"

They make out on the couch, right out in the open, and never worry about getting caught, not even by Yevgeny, who only giggles and tells them they're gross.

"I'll show you something gross," Ian threatens nonsensically with a grin, and leaps off of Mickey to chase Yevgeny in circles around the couch until the kid is positively shrieking with laughter and can't run anymore, Mickey watching them with that look Ian could never manage to catch before.

For Yevgeny's birthday, Kev and Vee offer to host him for a sleepover with Amy and Gemma, and Svetlana gives the affirmative before Mickey or Ian even think about it.

"We will have celebration here during day," she tells them imperiously, though her eyes are bright and mischievous the same way they always are when she calls Ian the nanny. "We will drop Geny off-"

"Yev," Mickey corrects, his lips twitching, just being ornery on principle or for the fun of it.

" _-Zhenya_ ," Svetlana says.

"Not much of a compromise," insists Mickey, grinning now as her lips curl up into a smile she can't quite bite down.

"We will drop him off before dinner," Svetlana finishes, Mickey not having anything to interrupt her again over. "Mandy will come with me and girls. We have our own sleepover."

"Sounds kinky," says Kev, and Mickey makes the most exaggeratedly disgusted face Ian has ever seen. Which is saying a lot, since Ian regularly tries to get toddlers to eat vegetables.

"Bye, Daddy! Bye, Ian!" Yevgeny calls over his shoulder as he races out the door before his mother, hugging the board game Ian gifted him to his chest, excited to share it with Amy and Gemma.

"Have good night with my husband, Pretty Nanny," Svetlana says to Ian with a solicitous wink as she follows her son out.

"Oh, I will," Ian promises, enjoying the soft blush making its way across Mickey's nose.

Ian puts in a movie he knows they won't be watching and Mickey puts a baking sheet in the oven. He sets the timer and then puts himself into Ian's lap until it beeps.

"Pizza rolls?" Ian laughs when Mickey brings the hot sheet over to the coffee table.

"Sleepover take two," Mickey says, his grin turning a touch regretful. But Ian doesn't let the mood dip, laughing again and pulling Mickey back into his lap.

"We live together," he points out. Mickey only hums in acknowledgement and kisses him and lets the pizza rolls go cold.

They make love on the couch, and Ian doesn't feel like calling it that is a death sentence on them anymore, and they don't have to be even remotely quiet. Ian thrills when Mickey calls out his name, and thrills to gasp and moan Mickey's back to him.

"You can leave marks anywhere now," Mickey tells him after they've caught their breath, faux casual. "If you want."

So obviously they go again, and Ian leaves marks _everywhere_. And Mickey leaves plenty of his own this time too.

"Jesus," says Kev when he sees Mickey next, Ian in the kitchen with Yevgeny washing off the remnants of breakfast. "You look like you got mauled."

"You should see the other guy," Mickey quips back, and his voice is light and easy.

He's happy. They're all happy.

Ian can't remember really ever thinking it was too good to be true, never thought he'd dwelled on it long enough for the universe to catch him. But apparently he must have.

Three days before Christmas, as the Milkovich household - of which Ian definitely considers himself a member, now - is putting up the last of their modest holiday decorations, Mickey's phone rings. Ian's the closest and the least occupied, so he's the one who answers it.

"Hello?" says a woman's voice Ian doesn't recognize on the other end. "Is this still the number of Michael Milkovich?"

"Yes, can I take a message for him?" Ian says, watching with a grin as Mickey lifts Yev up onto his shoulders so that the toddler can smack a window cling of a reindeer up as high as possible.

"This is the courtesy call he requested, from the parole office?" the woman says. "Terrence Milkovich is being released tomorrow afternoon."

The happy, colorful scene in front of Ian goes grey from one blink to the next, the sounds of Yev's laughter and Mickey bickering with Sveta and Mandy going all muffled like the snow from outside has come in. Ian shivers in that cold, his fingers going chilled and numb.

"Hello?" says the parole office woman.

"Thank you," Ian manages to croak out. "I'll let him know."

"I'm sorry," the woman whispers, her voice scratchy through the phone line, like she knows exactly what kind of news this is. Maybe she does. That doesn't make Ian feel any better. When the line clicks, Ian drops the phone onto the couch and then leans over the back of it, taking deep slow breaths and swallowing to try and loosen up his too tight throat.

"So what's the buzz, Ms. Potts," Mickey demands cheerfully as he flops down on the couch in front of Ian, making his phone bounce across to the next cushion. Yev is now being held up by both Sveta and Mandy, haphazardly twining mismatched strings of tinsel garland around the top bars of the blinds. Ian can't even manage a half-hearted glare or laugh for the new nickname.

"Your dad's getting out," he says. He doesn't say it loud, just lets it out into the room on an exhale, but somehow the girls manage to hear him too and they go just as quiet and serious as Mickey does, setting Yevgeny down onto the ground with grim faces.

"What are we gonna do?" Mandy asks Mickey.

"We'll handle it," Mickey answers her. "We knew he would be back eventually. We'll handle it. I'll call Iggy. We'll handle it." Ian slips out the door as Mickey scoops up his phone in one hand and his son in the other.

Ian goes back to the Gallagher house that night, and Mickey comes and drops Yevgeny off in the morning. He kisses Ian for much longer than usual, holding Ian's face in between shaking hands.

"You gonna leave me again?" he asks when he finally lets Ian breathe. He has his eyes squeezed shut tight, their foreheads pressed together, Yevgeny uncharacteristically quiet even in the face of their gross PDA. He must be able to tell that something serious is happening. Kids are smart like that, and Yevgeny's pretty smart about that stuff even for a kid.

"No," Ian promises, and hopes he'll get to keep it.

Terry doesn't get as handled as they might like, but he gets handled enough for now. As handled as they can get him for now without doing anything dangerous.

Ian figures he'll move back into the boys' room at the Gallagher house, but Lip offers up his room instead because Mickey's over so often and for so long.

"Who knows whether I'll go back to college or Terry'll go back to jail first," he tries to joke, and Ian gives him a smile even though it falls a little flat. "But either way, it won't be for long."

The Milkoviches have their Christmas at the Alibi with Kev and Vee so that it's not too suspicious for the Gallaghers to be there. Terry complains about the new house rules with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and a beer in his hand.

"You trying to raise a pussy?" he demands of Mickey, and Mickey's teeth grind so hard Ian almost thinks he can hear them from where he's sitting at a safe distance a few tables away.

"I'm trying to raise a kid that don't have asthma or a drug addiction," he says, and Ian is impressed in spite of himself at how perfectly neutral Mickey manages to keep his tone, even though Ian can see the accusation in his eyes - even though childhood asthma is the very least of what Terry has done to him. "That shit's expensive."

Terry gets drunk and talks a lot of shit, but no one plays into the fights he tries to start (not even fucking Frank, for once, but everyone would still rather he wasn't there either anyway). Yevgeny has already gotten mostly used to Terry after living with him for a few days, but even still he clings to Sveta's or Mickey's legs and peers around shyly like he hasn't done ever since Ian's known him. He calls Terry 'Grandpa' but he does it with that quiet reluctance that toddlers have about things like going to bed in the dark or saying goodbye. Ian wishes he could still get drunk too, crumbling peanuts in his hands and grinding his own teeth down to dust.

"Fuck Terry!" Mickey explodes one day when he shows up to pick up Yevgeny, who is asleep upstairs. "Fuck Terry, fuck Terry, fuck Terry, _fuck_ Terry."

"Fuck Terry," Ian agrees readily.

"Yeah, fuck Terry," says Lip from the couch, the words garbled around the filter of his unlit cigarette, but enthusiastic. Ian grins at him and Mickey throws him a dismissive middle finger.

They fall into a new routine. It's not as nice as the old one, not as comfortable, for obvious reasons. They shuffle back into the closet, the door just barely cracked, the space inside cramped and familiar. The soft crunch of eggshells underneath their feet becomes the normal background noise of their lives.

And then one day, Mickey brings Yev into the Gallagher kitchen in his arms and Yev is crying that he wants to go home. Mickey plops him into a chair and turns to Ian.

"I don't know what the fucking issue is," he says, running stressed hands through his hair, making it stand up. Ian smiles and reaches out to fix it.

"Don't touch my dad!" Yevgeny yells before Ian's hand can make contact. He jumps out of the chair Mickey dumped him in and-

He _punches_ Ian in the thigh.

"Yevgeny Mikhail!" Mickey snaps as Ian lets out a yelp that is mostly surprise. Yevgeny pulls his tiny fist back for another hit, and Ian moves out of the way as Mickey yanks him back by the hood of his coat. He opens his mouth to scold Yev more, but shuts it again when the kid bursts back into tears. "What's the problem?" he demands instead. It would sound waspish to anyone who didn't know him, but Yevgeny is used to his father's brashness so he just takes in a big gulp of air, knowing Mickey really wants to know what's wrong.

"Grandpa says Ian makes you sick," he gasps out, wet face scrunched up and scared. "He says you'll _die_."

Mickey clamps a hand over his own mouth and turns away from Yev so that the toddler doesn't see him get angry when it's not him he's angry at. Ian watches him as he breathes in slow and deep, and he does feel a little sick - sick to his stomach not knowing what Mickey will decide to do, sick to think that he might lose them after all, that Terry will have taken Mickey away from him again and he won't have any way to fight it again and Yevgeny won't ever trust Ian again… But he blinks back his own tears and he waits. Mickey said he would handle it. Mickey had asked Ian not to leave. They both promised, so maybe…

Mickey squats down in front of Yevgeny, brusquely wiping his tears away.

"Sickness is caused by germs, right, Yev?" he says, and again Ian can't help but notice how steady he keeps his tone. "You know that, right?" Yevgeny nods solemnly, sniffing. "And germs do bad stuff to your body, right? They make you hurt or get all snotty or whatever, and that kind of bullshit shows, right?"

"Right," Yev agrees, his voice a little whiny from crying.

"Right," Mickey repeats, and tugs Yevgeny closer so he can scoop him into his arms and stand up with him. He props Yev on his hip and brings him over to stand in front of Ian. "He look sick to you?" Yevgeny peers up at Ian, lip wobbling. He shakes his head.

"No," Mickey agrees. He shifts Yev around in his arms so that Yev is staring at him instead. "I look sick to you?" Yevgeny shakes his head. "No." Mickey pauses. Takes a breath. Takes another breath. Glances at Ian out of the corner of his eye like he's nervous, but then looks back into his son's eyes.

"There's nothing wrong with Ian," he says firmly. "And there's nothing wrong with me. Your grandpa thinks people who are different than him are bad, but he's wrong." Yev wipes his own face now, sniffing again.

"What makes you and Ian different than Grandpa?" he asks, still a little watery. Ian holds his breath as Mickey sucks another deep one in and lets it out slow.

"Ian and I like other boys the way your grandpa thinks boys should only like girls," he says. His voice is quiet but strong all the way through. He doesn't stutter or hesitate. Ian breathes. Yevgeny's little face scrunches up, but only in confusion this time.

"But… You _always_ liked Ian," he says. "He said you'll _die_." Ian wonders when they got the chance to explain death to him. Hopes he didn't learn about it from Terry.

"He's wrong," Mickey repeats firmly. "Okay?" Yevgeny nods meekly, and permits himself to be handed off to Ian. Ian hugs him close, both in relief and to comfort him.

"Sorry I hit you," Yevgeny mumbles into Ian's shoulder, exhausted from the excitement. Ian can feel his weight sink more firmly into Ian's hold as he starts to fall asleep.

"Alright," Mickey growls then. "Seems like I didn't handle that fucker well enough." And he marches out the door, his face so stormy Ian almost thinks he can hear the thunder rumbling, before Ian can tell him to be safe.

...

Mickey is running on feeling more than thought as he storms his way to the Alibi to confront Terry, his baby's crying echoing in his ears the whole way there. The snow crunches under his feet and he stomps on it to hear it get crushed. Over that sound Mickey hears all the much less satisfying echoes of all the bullshit Terry has said about people like Mickey, about Mickey, about Ian, all the times Terry hurt Mickey or someone Mickey loves (fuck Terry fuck Terry _fuck_ Terry) and Mickey couldn't- _didn't_ do anything about it.

But Mickey is stronger now. And above all else, he's a good fucking dad (fuck Terry fuck Terry _fuck_ Terry).

Mickey tosses the door open and it slams against the wall, and the freezing air follows him inside, a fitting entourage for the icy rage that is pulling Mickey around by his balls. Terry is sitting at the bar, his back to Mickey, but he turns at the bang of Mickey’s entrance, laughs gruffly and raises a hand in greeting. Like Mickey might be glad to see him. He doesn’t even fucking _notice_ the hatred Mickey can feel coming out of him in fucking waves. Like he hasn't done anything fucking wrong in his life that Mickey might be upset about.

Mickey marches right up to him and tells him in a furious rush, “If you ever scare my son like that again, it’ll be the last thing you ever fucking do.”

Terry’s smile drops abruptly, and Mickey’s stomach follows it, swooping painfully like he’s been launched into the air and gravity held it behind without him. The anger Mickey coasted in here on is still there, but like any time Mickey stands in front of Terry the old fear can't be kept all the way down.

Terry stands, slowly, deliberately, with presence. He’s an ox, a hulk, a mountain or a volcano, the god of abuse – larger than life in the terror he brings. He looks down at Mickey, and Mickey feels like he’s about to be stepped on.

“Are you threatening me, boy?” Terry asks lowly. The question is a warning, and the whole bar hears it and quiets. Mickey would love nothing more than to simply be silent like everybody else, to give up and crawl back into his cage, but he looks at Terry’s huge shoulders, his gut, his cruel face, glances down at his own shaking hands, and tries to imagine how this monster must look to Yev. Mickey thinks he knows. He remembers, after all, how Terry looked to him when he was as small as Yevgeny is now, crying quietly alone in his room with bruises on his face and that fear in his heart, not old yet then, and listening to his mother bustle about in the kitchen because her own fear convinced her that damage control was enough.

The knowledge that damage control is not enough sits like hot coals in Mickey’s belly, and he squares his shoulders, meets his father’s eyes, and the helpless anger he has lived with since he realized other kids had good dads, or at least dads less shitty than his, finally – _finally_ – feels like something powerful, something Mickey can use instead of drown in, when he shows Terry all his teeth and snarls-

“ _Yes_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> obvi there will be a sequel, so stay tuned


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